


The Night You Died

by multifandommonster



Category: Supernatual
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Season 1, sam has visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandommonster/pseuds/multifandommonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Season 1, right before Nightmare (1x14). Sam has a vision the night before he and Dean take a case, but nothing can prepare him for the sight of his brother's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night You Died

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me for any errors, I tried to post this at least 4 times but it kept getting deleted. this is my first work posted on this sight, so there's also that.

Sam was in an unfamiliar room. The walls were a dark grey, yet they looked forest green in the dim lighting from the singular lamp on the bedside table. The floor was hard and wooden with a white trim, and the bedspread was golden with a square pattern. The room felt off somehow, it felt wrong and hazy and almost unreal. Sam turned around slowly, taking in every aspect of the room as he pondered what was going on, or where he even was. The last thing he remembers is the sound of the breaks on the Impala, Dean pulling their bags out and-

"Dean," Sam whispers, nervous about the sound of his own voice. It echoed strangely in a way that shouldn't happen in a house, it sounded like he was in a cave. No one responded, not even a creak of the floorboards, and now Sam was starting to get worried. _Maybe I've been drugged_ he thought to himself. His hands moved to his pockets, searching for his phone, when the room started to flicker like a scene on an old VHS tape. The scene around him changed as figures began to appear; the shadow of a woman and a boy, maybe a mother and son, and the silhouette of a leather jacket. Sam's heart raced at the familiar sight of the worn fabric, and he relaxed slightly as he moved forward.

"Dean, hey, Dean." he said again, louder this time. "Hey, man, where have you been? Something really strange is happening. I woke up in this room and I don't remember how I got here at all, and, hey, are you even listening to me?" Sam huffed, looking at his brother's distant expression. Could Dean even hear him? _Now is not the time to zone out, you jackass_ Sam thought, rolling his eyes and stepping closer. As he shifted, he followed Dean's eyes and moving mouth to the boy he saw earlier, and soon realized that Dean was having a conversation. They seemed to be having a rather emotional conflict, and it was then that Sam noticed that the older woman he saw was crumpled on the bed in fear. Sam was starting to get worried at the lack of sense this whole situation was making, and he wracked his brain for any memory of how he ended up here. He vaguely recalls a motel room and a dispute with Dean over the best pizza joint, but that's as far as his memories stretch. He waved his hands in front of Dean's face in a pointless attempt to get his attention, but he soon drops them in frustration when he gets no acknowledgment from anyone in the room. He runs a hand over his face as he tries to calm down, a habit he picked up from Dean long ago, and breathes deeply. Dean obviously couldn't hear him, nor could the boy or the woman for that matter, and they certainly couldn't see him. It could be a demon or a spirit, maybe even a witch blocking their connection with a spell, but he didn't have the time to try and investigate the area around him. Sam was cautiously checking under the mattress for a hex bag when he finally began to hear sound.

"Listen, just calm down, okay? There's no need to hurt anyone." Dean says to the boy, holding a hand out in surrender.

"This isn't about you." the boy mutters, voice hoarse and cracking.

"Look, I get that you're upset. And you have every right to be. But your stepmom? She doesn't deserve this, you're not a cold-blooded killer-"

"You don't know me! You don't-you just don't understand. She ruined my life, she just stood there and-and did _nothing_." the boy spits out, hands shaking around the gun clasped in his hands as he points it at the woman on the bed.

"Max, no, please Max, I-I'm sorry for-"

"Don't say you're sorry!" the boy-Max-screams, tears streaming down his face. "Don't you dare say sorry, you knew exactly what they were doing and you didn't even blink an eye, just sat there and watched like it was nothing. Like I was nothing to you. You didn't care what happened to me." Max mumbles, gritting his teeth and sniffling loudly.

"This isn't something you can live with, Max. I've seen people killed and it's not something you just walk away from, you'll regret this for the rest of your life." Dean replies, and Sam has lived in Dean's pocket long enough to hear the tremor in his voice, the strain in his tone as he tries to rationalize with this kid.

"I-I don't think so. Now, get out of my way. You can't stop this." Max stutters, the safety clicking off of the gun with a noise that makes even Dean flinch. Sam can see the emptiness in Max's eyes, the way he's already written himself off. He waves his arms again frantically, kicking and yelling at the top of his lungs, doing anything he can to get Dean's attention, to tell him to _just get out of the way before he hurts himself._ But it's all useless, and he sees the way Dean's calculating expression hardens and then turns cold. Sam knows that look, knows it only shows when Dean turns into the stony-faced hero who did stupid, self-sacrificing things that Sam always had to bail him out of. And this time, Sam isn't there to save him from going through with it.

"Dean, stop, this kid is too far gone, okay? You can't save everyone man, _please_ , just get out of the way." Sam pleads, _begs_ as his brother steps carefully in front of the woman.

"Then you'll have to go through me first." Dean declares, straightening his shoulders and clenching his jaw.

"Dean, get out of the fucking way, he's going to shoot you, save the heroics, please-" Sam screams, hopelessly shoving at Dean but he doesn't even _flinch_ , Sam's hand goes right through him like a crappy horror movie. The kid looked scared, like he was debating if it was worth it, but his eyes turned grey and heartless as he readjusted his grip on the gun. "Fine." Max mutters, and before Sam could even move in front of Dean, the bullet whizzed past him and right into Dean's forehead. Dean staggered back, falling limp to the floor as blood poured out of the wound and Sam let out a noise that was a cross between a scream and a sob, his whole body wrenching forward to catch his brother, pulling him close and cradling his head. Blood smeared all over his clothes and his vision went _black_ , he felt like his whole body was on fire as he rocked Dean's lifeless body back and forth.

"No, no, no, no, Dean, not today, please!" he sobbed, tears dripping all over and mixing with the blood on his fingers. The room around him spun, images flicking back and forth of the gunfire and the sound of Dean's head snapping back. He turned to face the kid, but he was gone, everything was gone, replaced by an ominous, black fog. Dean's body shook, eyes rolling back into his head, the whites turning into a cloudy yellow as the floor dropped out beneath them.

"I got you this time, Sammy boy!" the yellow eyed demon yelled, the space around them echoing with the maniacal laughter. Sam wrenched his eyes shut, praying it wasn't real, and he swore he could hear the sound of Dean's ghost, the death of him repeating "Sammy, help me!" as his body was shot over and over again. Sam screamed, clamping his hands over his ears in a furious attempt to block out the constant mantra in his head, the repetition of his name over and over again as his brother pleaded _"Sam..Sam.."_

"Sam!" Dean yelled, shaking his brother awake. He jumped in surprise as Sam's eyes snapped open with a frightening amount of alertness, looking at Dean with a terror he felt deep in his gut. "Hey, Sammy, you were shaking and screaming, what's wrong-"

"Dean!" Sam shouted hoarsely, jerking forward and wrapping Dean in a tight hug. Tears were streaming down his face, and he knew Dean would give him hell for it in the morning, but right now he needed to know Dean was alive, that he was breathing. He couldn't stop crying as he took in the feeling of his brother's living body around him, conscious and looking at him like he was crazy. "D-Dean, god, you're h-here," Sam sobbed, and Dean instantly pulled him closer, his arms moving to rest around Sam's hips and lower back.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here, I'm always here, what happened, man? You seemed like you were possessed." Dean whispered, clutching Sam tightly against his chest.

"You couldn't hear me, you weren't even _listening_ , and I-I tried to tell you, but he SHOT you, Dean, r-right in the head and you _died_ ," Sam choked out. "You were dead the minute the bullet hit you, but you-you bled out in my arms, god, _Dean_ -"

"Sam, hey, listen man. I'm not dead, not even hurt, just calm down," he murmured, confusion blooming on his face.

"You turned into the demon. Your eyes turned yellow and your body disappeared, but you kept calling out my name and I-I couldn't do a thing to save you," Sam mumbled, his eyes getting a faraway look. Dean felt a chill run down his back as Sam started to shake in his arms, trying to reel his emotions in.

"Sam, it's okay, chill out. We're okay, I'm right here, I'm not leaving you." Dean whispered close to Sam's ear. He felt like he was losing him, maybe the dam had finally broke, and Sam shivered in his arms. Just as Dean was about to follow up with another question, Sam's breathing evened out a bit, and he took in a few long gasps of air. 

"I'm sorry," Sam muttered into Dean's shoulder, hot breath against the fabric of his battered t-shirt.

"Don't apologize, Sam. I'm alright, okay? Whatever happened in  your dream wasn't real." Dean sighed, rubbing small circles into his brother's back. Sam exhaled and pulled away, eyes cast downward as he looked at his hands. Dean felt his chest twist up at that, like he was slowly losing Sam, and he moved his hand to rest at the nape of Sam's neck, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. "I'm serious, Sammy. Don't get all embarrassed on me, I need you to tell me these things." he added. Sam looked back at him, and Dean sucked in a breath at the sight of his brother's glassy eyes.

Sam was looking down at him, like all brothers do when they shoot up six damn inches in one summer, and Dean got a little lost, a little dazed as he watched Sam's eyes flick up and down his face. His eyes were still dark and wet from tears, and Dean carefully tilted his chin towards him with a steady hand to get a better look at him. He'd grown up, that's for sure, but he'd also gotten _broad_ ; shoulders wide and more sculpted that the baby brother Dean painstakingly remembers. The snot-nosed gangly teenage boy that he used to know was suddenly looking down at him with such an intensity that it burned a hole in his chest, and Dean felt a pang of sadness that he hadn't been there to watch him grow up. Those years at Stanford had taken the life out of Dean, and every day he wondered what would've happen if he'd gone back to Sam earlier.

He snapped back to the present when he saw Sam lick his lips, never breaking eye contact. Dean took notice of his brother's sleepy figure; sheets pooled around his waist, his hair messy with bedhead, and his face the kind of soft that only happens after he's been crying.

"Sam..." he mumbled, eyes scanning Sam's for any sign of discomfort, maybe even disgust. What he found was the opposite, and Sam smiled weakly through his bitten lip, leaning closer with puffy eyes. "Don't do this, Sammy, don't do this if you don't want it." Dean whispered, and Sam breathed out heavily.

"I need to know you're alive, Dean, I need to know," he rambled, and with that, leaned in.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for enduring this till the end, I'm very sorry it wasn't great.


End file.
